


A romance for the books

by writworm42



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Con Artists, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hook-Up, Lesbian AU, Librarians, fwb to lovers, library meet-cute but also not, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: A con artist walks into a library, and meets another con artist at the counter...
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	A romance for the books

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holtzmanns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/gifts).



> A holiday gift for Holtz, who is the best ever. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to Athena for beta-ing and helping me brainstorm!!! You're the best and without your inside scoop on being a librarian, this fic never would have come to be! <3

It takes about thirty seconds for Brooke to spot her next perfect target. 

It’s usually about simple math, a quick judge of character. Who sticks out just enough that it’s apparent they don’t come often, but not so much that they know it and would call Brooke out. Someone who knows the rough norms, but doesn’t care enough to follow them. Someone who’ll be  _ just in and out _ , or who goes to the library solely as a place to pass time, not because they want to be there. 

And this girl, well, this girl fits the bill to a T. 

The girl is in shorts and a tank top--given that it’s about thirty-five degrees outside, and this is a neighbourhood where most apartments don’t have AC, it means the girl is probably one of those people looking for a cool place to go in the summer. Second, she comes in popping her gum and with music blasting through her earphones, meaning she either doesn’t know or doesn’t care for library etiquette. And when she walks up to the counter, she plunks down about five thin books, which likely means she reads to kill time, and probably doesn’t care too much for returning individual books before their due dates, as opposed to piling them up for whenever it’s convenient.

“I’d like to return these, please.” the girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, and Brooke smiles back warmly.

“Of course. Can I get your library card?” 

It’s a shame; the girl is pretty,  _ really  _ pretty. Dazzlingly white teeth, round, dimples, and wide, friendly eyes all look back at Brooke, their owner looking at her expectantly, trustingly, even. But sometimes, the sweetest patrons make the easiest marks.

She grabs her scanner, scans the girl’s card, and begins to check in the books, her routine underway.

_ Check, click, beep, no problem. _

The trick to a good con is to be unnoticeable. That’s why she started in the library--she’d been working there five years already, had her own system, designated scanner, computer, and accounts. She was so integrated into it, there was no way she could stick out in it.

_ Check, click, beep, no problem. _

Take only little bits at a time. That was how it started, and that was the hardest thing to turn into a system; how much to take, from whom. How not to get caught. Every librarian on staff pockets late fees from time to time; when you’re a couple dollars short for lunch or you’ve forgotten your phone at home and need change for the payphone, the cashbox at the back of the customer service area is a tempting reserve. But that didn’t mean you could get greedy--you had to be sneaky, had to be covert. A target who wouldn’t fight, who would believe the late fees were theirs, in an amount that the til wouldn’t miss. Not too often, or people would suspect something. No, it was all a balancing game, one that took keen practice and cautious judgement.

_ Check, click--alarm. _

Be quick with your hand. Brooke likes to use her own scanner, one she had outfitted with a trick button to trigger the flagging noise. She’d claimed the computer at the end of the line as her preferred one, making sure no one could see her screen. She wears long sleeves to pocket the change in. When she flags someone’s book, she mashes buttons on her keyboard quickly, programs in a believable, yet still somewhat inflated amount for the fine. Two, three dollars maybe, and put a small portion of that in the cashbox just to ward off suspicion. 

_ Check, click--alarm. _

Same thing, over and over, and then she moves on. That’s the most important rule, after all.

Never stay on one target too long. 

_ Check, click, beep, no problem. _

“So it looks like you have two fines.” Brooke puts down her scanner in its place right next to her computer, always within her view, handle down so and back to her so that no one can see the trick alarm button on it. “Late fees.”

“Late fees?” the woman’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her voice pointed. “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Mary?” 

“Two of your books are late. These two.” she turns her computer and points at the two books, looking back at the woman smugly, and that’s when she realizes her mistake.

“I took those out only a week ago. Your computer’s broke,” the woman crosses her arms stubbornly. “‘Cause I should have three weeks to return them.”

Oh, fuck. Brooke turns the monitor back towards herself and takes a sharp breath in, trying to swallow the panic that’s quickly bubbling up in her chest, making her heart beat faster. The woman--Vanessa, Brooke sees when she glances down at the woman’s library card to see who she’s dealing with--is right. The books were only taken out a week ago. Brooke had underestimated her and gotten cocky. 

It’s alright; it’s alright. She’s been caught like this before. She’s been challenged like this before. That’s the advantage of her system; if things go south, she can always blame the computer.

“Okay, I’ll strike the fees.” she forces her voice to stay light despite herself, despite the adrenaline coursing through her that’s making her whole body buzz. “Sorry about that; the computer must be off.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa eyes Brooke up and down, but there’s no suspicion in her eyes, only amusement. “That’s alright.”

Vanessa swipes her card back, then turns around to leave, and Brooke breathes out, thinking it’s over, when suddenly, the smaller girl turns back around.

“Say, what’s your name, Mary?”

“Lynn.” Brooke lies.

“No it’s not.” Vanessa grins, the amusement in her eyes turning into a full-blown, mischievous sparkle. 

“It’s not.” Brooke admits, chuckling a little despite herself. As terrifying as it is, God, this woman is  _ good. _

“I’m not askin’ ‘cause I’m gonna tell.” Vanessa shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper as she leans in conspiratorially. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I wanna know for personal reasons.” she winks, and that’s when Brooke understands. She’s not dealing with anyone right now. No, she’s dealing with a  _ professional.  _

Fuck. 

“Brooke.” she admits, “My name is Brooke.”

“Alright, miss Brooke.” Vanessa nods, “I’m Vanessa, but you already knew that, ain’t you?”

Brooke doesn’t say anything else, only nods, feeling her mouth go dry. 

It’s only after Vanessa flounces away that Brooke looks down on the counter and realizes that Vanessa’s left a scrap of paper behind. 

A due date reminder slip for the two books Brooke had flagged, with a phone number scrawled on the back. 

\--

Vanessa has had her eye on Brooke for a while. She’s not the typical mark--she works in a library, for God’s sake, that’s not exactly big-bucks material. But she’s tall, and blonde, and there’s something about her that says she’s got more going on than Vanessa realizes.

Which means that at the very least, she’s someone that Vanessa can have fun with, if not draw in and use. 

Vanessa’s by no means an amateur at this game. She’s been going in and out of it since she was in college, ever since she had bills to pay for the first time and job interviews she’d need fancy clothes for. After that, well, it was a bit of a habit--she’d acquired a taste for luxury, and a need for adrenaline, and her modus operandi suited both.

Find a girl who was just barely upper-class--not so rich she’d be suspicious, not so poor she’d be seriously impacted by Vanessa’s scam, and take her out for a few drinks. Get to know her. Play the bimbo. Forget her wallet a few times, just as a test to see how the girl would react. Then start asking for library late fees. A few dollars here and there, maybe once per month, just enough to pad her pockets for a few extra splurges at the mall when the mood struck. Then the bigger things--after enough late fees, enough time building up her image as a bookworm, the girls would usually start just buying her books, telling her this way she wouldn’t have to worry about fees. Not the most extravagant gifts, but ones that she could sell for a decent turnaround to college students looking to complete their class reading lists. That was the game, after all; never taking enough to raise suspicion, but just enough that she could walk into Pandora after each breakup and buy herself something nice for her troubles. 

Besides, there was usually some decent sex to be had out of it, too. 

So when she saunters up to Brooke after a week of watching unnoticed, ready to figure out the woman’s secret, find something she can exploit, she’s even more surprised than she thought she’d be. 

Brooke’s skills are rough, that’s for sure. But she has potential. And Vanessa could use some potential on her team. 

It’s only about two hours before she gets the text she’s been waiting for.

_ Hey, it’s Brooke. _

She saves the number immediately, grinning to herself.

**V:** _ well hey miss Brooke _

**V:** _ how u doin? _

**B:** _ lol _

**B:** _ I’m fine, thanks, you? _

**V:** _ peachy. _

There’s a pause, and Vanessa can’t help but wonder what Brooke is thinking, what her next move is going to be. 

**B:** _ so why did you pick me? _

Vanessa whistles, her grin widening further. Maybe she had underestimated Brooke after all; smarts aside, this chick is  _ bold _ . 

**V:** _ I like a girl who can stay on my level. _

Another pause, and Vanessa holds her breath, her confidence dimming just a little.

**B:** _ I’ve seen Focus already. I know what you’re trying to do.  _

**B:** _ I work alone and you’re not getting any cut.  _

Vanessa’s grin fades completely, cockiness replaced with frustration and, she has to admit, just a tinge of anger. If it’s going to be like that, then it’s going to be like that--but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone call her out on shit, especially shit she had only half-planned to pull.

**V:** _ Fine.  _

**V:** _ But if you’re gonna work alone, at least don’t try to judge a mark by the length of their shorts. It’s the middle of August, bitch. IQ don’t come with air conditioning.  _

She tosses her phone onto her kitchen table and rockets up to grab herself a glass of water, still fuming once she settles down and grabs the book across from her, hoping an old favourite like  _ Coraline _ will get Brooke out of her head.

It doesn’t, and so before she can even finish her chapter, she’s picked up her phone again, staring at the message on the screen in disbelief.

**B:** _ Fair point _

**B:** _ Thanks for the tip.  _

\--

Brooke is three beers deep at a coworker’s birthday party about a week later when she sees Vanessa stalking towards her from across the bar. 

“This coincidence, or are you some kind of mastermind?” she sneers as Vanessa sidles up next to her, but the shorter woman only rolls her eyes. 

“Coincidence, bitch. You ain’t that special.” her voice has a drunken lilt to it, and Brooke can tell she’s tipsy, that she’s got a good amount of liquid courage under her belt. That’s fine; so does does she. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi.” Brooke snorts, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“Oh, Christ.” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly. “Look, Brooke, I barely suggested anything to you. You ain’t want it. Whatever. I ain’t out here to try and steal your thunder, we still run in different circles and your gig don’t have to be mine.” 

“So why did you come over here, then?” Brooke eyes the shorter woman up and down, unconvinced. Vanessa wouldn’t have stuck her neck out like that if she wasn’t serious, if there wasn’t something motivating, something absolutely irresistible in it for her.

“‘Cause you may not want to work together, but you still sexy, mami.” Vanessa cocks an eyebrow, and Brooke can’t help but laugh. 

“So let me get this straight. You wanted to work with me, now you want to sleep with me?” for all Brooke’s incredulity, though, Vanessa doesn’t seem even remotely shaken.

“I told you, I like a girl who can stay on my level.” 

“Well, level yourself.” Brooke rolls her eyes. She’s just about to get up, just about to walk away, when a hand on her wrist stops her.

“Look, mami, I know I fucked up. I know I look like some kinda ass. But I seen the way you look at me. I  _ know _ we got chemistry, and I know we both lookin’ for somethin’ better to do tonight than sitting here drinking lukewarm beer.” 

Vanessa’s right; Brooke  _ had  _ been thinking of leaving, and truth be told, the longer Vanessa sits in front of her, the more seriously she’s considering Vanessa’s offer. It can’t be helped, not really--Vanessa’s  _ smart _ , and bold, the exact kind of challenge that Brooke likes in a woman. She can tell she’s going to be a fun time already, and that’s before Brooke gets a good look at her, before she trails her eyes over Vanessa’s body one more time and sees everything that she failed to pay proper attention to the first time she saw her in the library. High cheekbones; dazzling teeth. A waist that  _ has _ to be cinched, there’s no other explanation for how nice it is. And a bemused, plump-lipped smile that says that Vanessa knows exactly what Brooke is thinking, exactly what she’s about to say, and can’t wait to hear it. 

She says a quick goodbye to her coworkers and rushes out of the bar on Vanessa’s heels, her stomach doing flip-flops and her body pulsing with a new sort of adrenaline and urgency that rivals even the thrill of getting away with a particularly hefty con.

\--

Vanessa takes Brooke back to her place, mostly because Brooke insists on it—even with her tongue down Vanessa’s throat, she makes a show of her mistrust, whispering against Vanessa’s jawline that she’d better not try to steal anything.

_ It’s not like you’d have anything to steal.  _ Vanessa bites back the retort, forces herself not to break whatever fragile, frenzied game they’ve got going. It’s a task that proves easier than Vanessa thought it would; all it takes is a couple of soft, sucking kisses to the nape of Brooke’s neck and the blonde melts, unable to form any words beyond  _ more, more, Vanessa, please, more. _

That’s more like it. Vanessa moves her hands slowly up Brooke’s body, taking her time to feel out every spot that makes her gasp, shiver, or whine, or all of the above, in the case of when Vanessa moves a hand up to Brooke’s neck, positions her grip in a V shape and presses down just lightly, just enough to make Brooke feel Vanessa right against her carotid arteries. Not enough to choke; just enough to command, to show her who’s in charge. 

By the time they reach Vanessa’s apartment, scrambling to the elevator and hitting the wall to continue kissing and stroking and rutting against each other, Brooke is incoherent, and Vanessa is almost disappointed; she had really expected Brooke to challenge her a little more, try to talk back or regain control. Instead, Brooke is putty in her hands, flushed and breathless by the time the elevator arrives on Vanessa’s floor and they’re stumbling towards her door. 

It’s only after Vanessa’s led Brooke towards the bedroom, though, that she remembers that Brooke is full of surprises. 

“Whoops!” Brooke flips them around right as they’re about to fall onto the bed, throwing her weight enough so that Vanessa doesn’t have time to correct their positions before she hits the mattress, Brooke following on top of her. 

“That’s more like it.” Brooke grins. She kisses Vanessa quickly on the lips, then starts to work her way down over Vanessa’s neck, marking it up with her teeth in a way that almost makes Vanessa forget everything around her except the feeling of Brooke’s mouth on her skin, licking and sucking and moving towards her collarbone. She brings a hand up to Brooke’s back, rakes her nails over it hard enough that she knows the blonde will feel it through her shirt, and it’s only when Brooke lets out an almost pitiful gasp at the sensation that Vanessa remembers who she is, what she’s doing, what she really wants.

Really, it’s Brooke’s fault for forgetting to pin Vanessa down; or maybe she’s just so used to winning, it’s never occurred to her. Either way, when Brooke’s mouth lifts from Vanessa’s chest, the smaller woman takes her chance to push her off and over onto the bed, once again flipping their positions. She’s careful to pin down Brooke’s wrists and box her in with her legs, scanning the older woman’s face for any signs of displeasure or worse, distress, but Brooke only smiles, relaxing a little, and Vanessa realizes that that’s exactly the reaction Brooke was trying to get all along. 

“Brat.” Vanessa laughs, nipping Brooke’s neck and smiling at Brooke’s surprised yelp. “Your parents ain’t teach you to just ask for things you want?”

“If they did, then we wouldn’t have met.” Brooke smirks, and Vanessa has to hand it to her; she has a point.

“Cheeky bitch.” she hums before capturing Brooke’s lips in a kiss, one that finally melts any remaining tension between them, becoming soft and slow and thorough, almost exploratory. Vanessa lets go of Brooke’s wrists in favour of cupping her face, and this time, Brooke doesn’t fight--only lets her hands roam up Vanessa’s legs, over her thighs, coming to cup and squeeze the flesh of her ass over her skirt. 

“You should take this off.” she breathes into Vanessa’s lips, and she’s right, it’s too damn hot, too damn uncomfortable, too damn in the way. They separate only long enough for Vanessa to shimmy out of her skirt and take her shirt off before coming back together, Vanessa’s hands stopping Brooke from pulling off her own dress. 

“Let me do it.” she whispers, tracing her fingers over the hem, and this time, Brooke doesn’t fight. She only nods, lifting her arms to allow Vanessa to take her dress off and then ease her back on the bed, their bodies warm and pressed together. 

After one last kiss, soft and sweet against Brooke’s jaw, Vanessa leans back, traces her eyes over every inch of Brooke’s body in an attempt to decide where she should start. It’s a task that proves incredibly difficult; truth be told, there isn’t an inch of Brooke that Vanessa doesn’t want to worship, not a single detail about her that isn’t worth extra attention. So Vanessa starts with a hand in her hair, not pulling but holding, feeling, letting the soft strands tickle against her fingers as she traces her other hand over the soft, sweat-sheened skin of Brooke’s chest, grabbing and kneading her breast through her bra.

“I, um--I actually--Sorry, but--” Brooke starts, and Vanessa rockets up, hands away, heart pounding. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Brooke shakes her head, and to Vanessa’s relief, she smiles, her eyes sparkling. “It’s just that this bra isn’t great for that, the underwire’s kinda stiff. Can you give me a sec to take it off?”

_ That’s it?  _ Vanessa gives a relieved laugh, lifting herself off of Brooke long enough for the other woman to shimmy out of her bra. “Jesus, I was afraid I hurt you or something.”

“Hey, don’t laugh!” Brooke whines, swatting at Vanessa’s stomach playfully. It’s a gesture that earns her two hands on her wrists, pinning her down again as Vanessa grins.

“Listen, don’t worry about that, okay?” Vanessa kisses Brooke again, soft and reassuring. “I know plenty other ways to make you feel good.”

“Then show me.” Brooke’s eyes are hooded, her pupils wide with need. It’s tantalizing, but it doesn’t mean that Vanessa will just give things up--no, that would be to easy, not nearly enough fun.

“Only if you’re patient.” she smirks, and before Brooke can protest, she’s kissing her way down the blonde’s body again, stroking the inside of her thighs and smiling into Brooke’s skin when the older woman squirms. 

“You want my hands or my mouth?” she asks, when she reaches the waistband of Brooke’s underwear, running a single finger down Brooke’s slit and shivering at how easily it glides, how slick and wet Brooke is even through the far-too-thick cotton fabric. 

“Mouth, please…” she pants, and Vanessa doesn’t hold back any longer.

“Get up,” she instructs, licking her lips, “And take those off. I want you to sit on my face.” 

Brooke doesn’t argue or make a show of stripping--only rushes to peel off her underwear before clambouring on top of Vanessa and eases down where Vanessa’s hands guide her to go, gasping with relief as Vanessa finally brings her mouth home, licking a stripe up Brooke’s slit all the way to her clit. It doesn’t take long--only a few minutes of licking, sucking, and grazing with her teeth, and soon, Brooke’s moans are becoming shorter, more high pitched, more desperate and frequent, and then she’s coming, barely keeping herself up as Vanessa continues to suck down on her clit through her orgasm. By the time she’s finally collapsing down next to Vanessa, still shaking, still breathless, Vanessa can tell she’s completely spent and sated, ready to sleep rather than go for a second round.

If it were anyone else, Vanessa would have been pissed, felt like it was unfair; but now, cradling Brooke in her arms, kissing her forehead like it’s familiar territory she’s kissed hundreds of times before, she finds herself completely satisfied.


End file.
